


just try to breathe slow, make both of your lungs full

by TheBashfulPoet



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21869170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBashfulPoet/pseuds/TheBashfulPoet
Summary: Andrew and Neil get snowed in and Neil doesn’t take it so well.AFTG Winter Exchange 2019
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 9
Kudos: 194





	just try to breathe slow, make both of your lungs full

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for [@sundownstreet](https://sundownstreet.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I am so sorry it's so late! Finals were an absolute nightmare (don't do grad school kids). Still, you said wintery/blizzard feels and I hope I delivered it with this story. 
> 
> Song: [Hold You Here - This Wild Life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrutKfbTeJA&fbclid=IwAR3oPms2Ho5mli5yTsi7-LNzKPdXFWsZvxiRJ0-zw-FCDgUw6lJYH-jvzuI)

_Tap Tap Tap_

Lately that has become the rhythm of Andrew’s life.

Tap Tap Tap and the door to the bedroom shuts.

Tap Tap Tap and dumbbells hit the floor.

Tap Tap Tap and the whirl of the treadmill fills the air and gives him a reprieve from the taps with the smack of sneakers and huffs of exhaustion. In these moments, his shoulders would fall ever so slightly and the pounding in his head lightened. In those moments he would think that would be the end of it. Then they start not an hour later.

Tap Tap Ta-

“If you tap one more fucking finger, I’m going to break it off.”

“Huh?” Neil blinks, turning away from the window with his finger _blissfully_ stilling against the frame.

He’s got a far off look in his eyes with a twitching in his limbs that reminds Andrew of a different Neil — one quick too twitchy to stay still for longer than a few seconds at a time. One that clutched a dufflebag at his side and would find every possible exit to a room. One, Andrew thought he finally got rid of after all these years. He puts his book down in his lap and stares at the offending hand, a slight twitch in the limb like it’s itching to lift up once more.

Neil follows his gaze. “Oh.” He curls his fingers into a loose fist. “Sorry.”

It does nothing to lessen the ire in Andrew’s gaze. He hated empty words almost as much as he hated the way how Neil’s agitation and restlessness bled into his own body. Hated even more that he knew the exact source of it yet could do nothing about it.

Still, he couldn’t help himself when he opens his mouth and says, “Looking out the window won’t stop the blizzard from raging nor the fact that we’re stuck here until it stop and the snow melts enough to unstick the door.”

Neil winces, the muscle in his jaw tightening ever so slightly and his eyes flickering with worry and concern and the tell-tale sign of a prey getting ready to run. It’s there and gone in a flash — passing over his face so quickly most wouldn’t even notice it if they didn’t know where to look. Andrew was not most people.

“I’m-”

Andrew’s glare intensifies. “Finish that sentence and I kill you.”

Neil shuts his mouth and turns back to the window. Silence falls over the room, only the occasional soft pop of a log splitting in the fireplace filling the air. If he listened close enough, he could hear the sound of the wind blowing outside — a harsh whistle that made his bones shiver at the thought of being caught out in it. He closes his eyes, lets the noises roll over him, and breathes deeply.

Fighting with Neil like this wasn’t going to work, not when he was too quick to shut down instead of biting back with his usual fire and vigor. Not when the flash of panic and fear still raced through Andrew’s mind. So instead he swallows his irritation.

“Hey.” Neil looks back, shoulders tense and his hands clenching and unclenching around shaky fingers. “Come here.”

For a moment it looks like Neil won’t, but then his body sags and he moves towards the couch. Andrew watches as his body jerks stiffly and awkwardly sinks down into the cushion at his feet, staring at the hard lines of his profile and the now smooth white scars that adorn the right side of his face. He waits and when Neil doesn’t move, he closes his book and set it down on the coffee table.

“Yes or no?”

Neil doesn’t even hesitate before he answers with a soft yes and Andrew hates him all the more. He goes slow, his arms stretching out slowly and carefully as they move to wrap around Neil’s shoulder and guide him down until they are chest to chest with Neil’s head tucked under his chin and his fingers buried in those messy auburn curls. Neil’s heart beats against his own and the steady rhythm of it settles the last of his irritation.

They don’t talk, not for a long time — both comfortable in the weight of their limbs tangled together and the lull of their breaths mixing into a calm and easy pattern until Andrew could not tell where his breathing began and Neil’s ended. He felt Neil’s body grow soft and pliant under his hands, nose tucked tightly at his neck and little shivers running down his spine when Andrew’s nails scratched every so slightly against his scalp.

Only when he couldn’t feel an ounce of tension left in Neil’s body did Andrew speak. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

Neil tenses once more, but Andrew drops his hand to the back of his neck and squeezes until it melts away. His face tucks further into the juncture between Andrew’s neck and shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey,” Andrew pulls away slightly and lifts Neil’s chin up until their eyes meet. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then that’s okay but do not _lie_ to me.”

Silence, then a sigh. Neil drops his head back down and Andrew lets him, sensing he wasn’t so much as hiding as he was seeking comfort (Neil always was the more tactile of the two of them).

“I don’t like being stuck here.”

Andrew almost snorts — because _of course_ he doesn’t, anyone could have guessed that from the way Neil had paced around the house like a walking panic attack. But he keeps his mouth shut and waits Neil out.

“It just…” he pauses and Andrew lifts a hand to his neck once more. “It just reminds me of _him_ and how every second we spent still meant an opportunity for him to find us. And even though I know that he’s gone — that I saw the bullet go through his head and the glassy look in his eyes when his body hit the ground — I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still out there. Still waiting for a moment of stillness before he emerges and rips it all away.”

Neil shudders. Andrew squeezes.

He shift again, sliding down the couch until they lie face to face with their foreheads pressed and noses slotted against each other in the perfect fit. He waits until Neil’s eyes slide open and he’s met with the piercing stare of those blue orbs.

“He’s dead. He’s been dead for three years now. You are Neil Abram Josten, 23 years old, starting striker for the Colorado Boulders and _alive_.” Neil sucks in a breath and shivers but says nothing so he continues on. “He will never get you. Not him, not any of his fucking cronies, or the Moriyamas, _no one_. They will have to go through me first, do you understand?”

When Neil only looks at him with eyes wide, he repeats himself. “ _Do you understand?_ ”

“Yes.” It’s soft like the breath that caresses his lips when he whispers it.

He squeezes his neck tighter and pulls them just a little closer. “Good. Now no more of this rabbit shit.”

Neil huffs out a laugh, and in that moment, Andrew knows the words have finally gotten through that thick skull of his. He ignores the way it makes his chest tighten and his tongue go dry no matter how many times he’s heard it by now.

It’s almost impossible to stop the words from coming out his mouth as he says, “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Neil closes the last of the distance, his lips capturing Andrew’s in a soft and languid kiss.

Outside the blizzard stormed on, wind ripping through the air and chilling the air to freezing temperatures, but Andrew could only hear the soft beat of Neil’s heart against his chest and the quiet sigh that left Neil’s mouth when they finally pulled away for air.

Better yet, was the complete absence of those fucking taps.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can pry soft!Andreil from my cold dead hands.


End file.
